Happy New Year!! Er ... Happy New (Fiscal) Year!!
Well ... at least I know my state employee friends are nudging one another awake and raising a glass ... er coffee mug ... in celebration.
The state employee in me ... from lo these13 years past ... just won't die. So, to me, Sept 1 will always signify a fresh start. A new budget. New plans. New beginnings.
Time to blog.
Freshly.
CHEERS!!
(Plus, I've gotta get warmed up for the 30 days of Katy-Gras. Coming soon. Since yesterday ... two months til my birthday on Oct. 30. I can't DO 60 days. This is simply a warmup. So, for those still clinging to these "boots" ... thank you for hanging around. I appreciate you.)
A story.
When I was in elementary school, I told My Mama that I'd like to take a boiled egg in my lunch box. I don't know where the idea came from, but as a mom whose child rarely eats his lunch or has ideas for an edible lunch, if I was that child, I'm sure My Mama leapt on the idea.
I'm sure she queried, "You sure?"
And I'm sure I said, "Yeah." I mean, "Yes ma'am."
I think I was beyond Holly Hobbie and toting Strawberry Shortcake, when I opened my metal lunch box the next day in the cafeteria to ... The Egg.
Suddenly, with all my people looking at me and my lunch, The Egg seemed to stick out so much more than my usual peanut butter w/ grape jelly sandwich and Lay's potato chip, carrot stick lunch.
The Egg was just sitting there.
I felt embarrassed.
Faint.
SURELY I must go home to collect myself.
I feigned illness and called My Mama.
Said I wasn't feeling well.
But, what she heard was, "People are looking at me. Like they do that girl who brings tuna fish in wax paper instead of PB and J in Ziploc."
She came for me.
Thru the back door of the cafeteria. To my spot at the table. She helped me collect my lunch and The Egg and walked me toward the car.
"So, what hurts?" she asked.
"Everything," I said.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"You think it's that egg I put in your lunch box?"
HOW DID SHE KNOW??
HOW did my intuitive mother KNOW The Egg was the cause of my ills?
Fast forward 35+ years to this week.
The Short One (who is getting So Tall and so diligent and determined. And still so precious.) is, one morning, about to DIE from a tummy ache. DIE, I tell you. It gets worse and worse as the mornings pass. I say "mornings" because, aside from bed time, it never hurts. But, on this particular morning, D.I.E.
The school year is new. So, remembering Mama and The Egg, I asked, "Tell me ... honey ... what's happening on the playground? The lunch room?"
"The boys have too many football arguments on the playground. There's nothing to do. I sit there. In the shade. I hate recess."
I told him to hang out w/ the girls. His stomach is cured. And the girls are great.
Today. The Big One (who is a 7th grader and so smart and so kind) has a sore throat. That is about to KILL him. K.I.L.L.
"I just can't go. Can't go to school. Can't talk," he said. While talking.
I encouraged him to get thru third period. Turn in all his homework. Miraculously, he made it thru lunch. Lunch? And then he called me.
"I just can't stay. Hurts. Bothers me."
I asked him about the lunch room. About the hallways. His friends.
They announced the football team roster today. He didn't want to play football. He's a basketball player. A swimmer. Didn't try out for football. But still.
They announced the football team roster today.
That changes everything.
His friends.
Which friends he has in which classes. In lunch.
The jerseys they wear to school on Fridays.
Everything.
Thank you, Mama. For the ability to see it's not about the lunch box.
It's all about The Egg.
4 comments:
When I was in the third grade, one morning I told my mama my stomach hurt. SO BAD. There happened to be a big test that day, so mama was certain that was the issue. She hugged me and told me I was going to do great. I made it to school. And then ... the WORST THING EVER happened. In front of my entire class, I threw up all over my test and my clothes. I cried all the way to the nurse's office. My mama arrived with a fresh pair of clothes and said, "I can't believe you were really sick!"
I probably got a toy that afternoon :)
I, once, threw up all over the front of the school while waiting for My Mama to deliver me from the tummy ache. BOTH my boys have thrown up in "circle time" ... and art. The Egg Theory doesn't always hold water.
Learning how to handle life - one egg at a time!
Now for the memory of picture day and the kerchief on the head. I still feel a bit guilty about that one - but you went out the door very happy about it!
when i was in first grade my mama would walk me to the bus stop and then i'd turn right around and come home. did this for a few weeks, and finally she figured out the egg was a boy picking on me in class. the short one and the big one are lucky you're their mama and understand how to crack the egg. xo
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